


Shadows of Him

by rhodrymavelyne



Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 07:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: Even in the arms of his mother's god, Jamison can't forget Quentin. Memories of both of them continue to haunt his dreams.





	Shadows of Him

**Author's Note:**

> The Quentin Collins/Jamison Collins's pairing is largely emotional, based on the huge, childish crush Jamison had as a boy on his uncle, dissolved into grief and guilt. The Ra pairing is a bit more, shall we say, fleshy? :) 
> 
> I don't own Dark Shadows, but I sometimes feel like it owns my imagination, letting it run around on a leash elsewhere for a while, only to pull it back. :)

Jamison met the stranger’s dark, bold gaze. It stripped him down naked, peeled off his flesh, searching for the secrets beneath his skin. 

No wonder he excited fury and anger in the fragile young men of good birth. There was nothing submissive or deferential about him, no acknowledgment of their rank. 

No one could delude them themselves that this man, whom exuded sexuality and authority was their inferior. He blazed among them, like a sun contained within flesh and bone. 

No one else had been able to meet his gaze. 

Quentin might have met the challenge, delighting in the chaotic upturn to the order of polite society in this man of no rank. Quentin would have laughed at it all. Conventions, a false sense of superiority or inferiority dashed to pieces were meant to be mocked. 

Perhaps this was why Jamison followed him upstairs, ignoring the scandalized, secretly jealous gazes of his peers. 

It was another way of holding onto Quentin, or so he told himself, once the door closed behind them. Once strong fingers grasped his chin, forcing him to meet those dark eyes, its pupils consumed by a fire within them. 

“Quentin, Quentin.” Dark fingers, lustrous with sunlight coming from within them sought his neck, loosening his collar. “I’ll have you forget Quentin, just for a while.” Full lips, which might have graced a pharoh’s mask crushed against his own, devouring them, only to withdraw with a fierce growl. “I’ll make you mine and mine alone, Jamison Collins. Your mother is mine already. Your sister seeks to throw herself into our arms, but it’s you I truly want.”

“Why me?” Jamison managed to gasp while being stripped of his garments. The role of Master of Collinwood fell from him along with his clothes along with all the other masks he’d created to hide behind, sneering at the world whom believed in the parts he played. 

Games. They were all games. How Quentin would have laughed, Quentin who’d once boasted to have committed all the sins others only read about. He hadn’t known Jamison was hiding, listening. 

Once Jamison had thought he could forgive Quentin for anything. Too late did he realize he could. If only he could take back those last moments…if only he could have brought him back…

“QUIT THINKING ABOUT HIM!” His lover seized his face in his hands. “Even when being embraced by your mother’s god, your soul still cries out for him!” 

He shoved Jamison against the wall, the power of his mighty body holding him prone. “Look at me, Jamison. Say my name, not his.”

“Ra,” Jamison whispered before Ra’s mouth claimed his own, the fire within him kindling to meet the passion scorching within his lover’s eyes and hands. “RA!”

His own scream woke him up, drenched in his own bed in Collinwood. 

His wife snored beside him, oblivious in her innocence. Why should she take notice of her husband’s sins or secrets?

Jamison wiped his brow, his mother’s god’s name lingering on his lips, in his mind. 

If only it had been just a dream. 

Long ago, Ra had found him, claiming Jamison Collins in the most fleshy sense of the word. Now there was no escaping him, any more than he could escape from the memory of Quentin. 

Jamison laid back and closed his eyes, ignoring the tears that trickled down his cheek. Even in the darkness of his bedroom, he was still the Master of Collinwood. He’d keep his mask firmly in place.


End file.
